


you are my belief

by neenswrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, but they're in love, so its okay, they're all idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22659406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neenswrites/pseuds/neenswrites
Summary: A bunch of volleyball idiots eventually goOh.Followed by a brief moment before they goOh.Heavy emphasis on the eventually.-Ch. 6Kenma felt a twinge at his chest at the thought, and immediately looked to see if Kuroo caught the way his chest hiccupped at the feeling. But when he glanced up at his friend, Kuroo was looking down at Kenma with a smile so soft that Kenma had the sudden all-encompassing urge to kiss it off of his mouth.Kenma then promptly tripped over his own feet.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 43
Kudos: 260





	1. i hate seagulls

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from the song [my best friend is you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brBfA11LBbo)  
> and the fic is inspired by the song [i hate seagulls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hord1ESK7ro)  
> \- both by kate nash. feel free to check them both out and try and guess which verses will go with which pairings!
> 
> for the first chapter: tsukki and yamaguchi

This can’t be real.

Tsukishima was of the firm belief that he put up with a lot of shit. Just dealing with the Karasuno Volleyball team in and of itself should be enough to warrant him grace with the universe for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the universe disagreed.

"What do you mean that our flight has been delayed by pigeons?"

"Actually, they’re seagulls."

Tsukishima closed his eyes, the absurdity of the correction pulling at his restraint.

"Fine," he amended, glaring at his brother who seemed much too lax about the current situation. "What do you mean that our flight has been delayed by fucking _seagulls_."

Akiteru clucked his tongue at his brother's language but shrugged as he looked back down at the revised tickets.

"According to the desk, there's a huge swarm of them blocking the runway and they're working on removing them but it's slow going," he responded, texting someone distractedly. Most likely their mother. "Apparently this has happened before, and it took about two hours to get all of them out."

"Two hours!" Tsukishima exclaimed, eyes wide under his glasses. "How does it take 2 hours to get rid of some stupid birds?"

"It's not even that bad," Akiteru replied with a roll of his eyes. Standing from his seat, he gestured away from the gate. "There's lots to do in Haneda, so we should be able to kill time pretty easily."

Tsukishima scoffed, but said nothing as he followed his brother's lead. It wasn't the length of the wait that was bothering him. It was the fact that he was now late.

Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone, knowing that delaying the inevitable never stopped it from coming.

To Yamaguchi:

_hey my flights delayed_

_as in 2 hours delayed_

_so we're probably going to have to postpone the sleepover_

Not that he knew _when_ they’d find the time to actually do that.

Tsukishima grimaced at his messages, and swiftly pocketed his phone when he saw the three little dots indicating that Yamaguchi was about to reply. He didn't want to ignore Yamaguchi, but he wasn't particularly looking forward to letting his friend down after he'd reassured him that this trip to Tokyo would absolutely not intervene with the sleepover that had been a long time coming. Between all that had happened at the Interhigh, and the training camp they were about to go to, the two haven’t really been able to hang out without volleyball hanging over them.

Tsukkishima would be hard pressed to admit it, but he missed spending time with his best friend without the pressure of the sport.

Shaking his head at his thoughts, he nearly flinched at his brother's intent gaze as he raised his head.

"Did you need something?" Tsukishima asked, purposeful in his attempt to seem unbothered.

"Did you...have something waiting for you?" Akiteru asked. The unspoken _something volleyball related_ hung heavy in the air, and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes.

"No."

Not that he'd tell his brother anyway. Hell, he didn't even know that Tsukishima was going to be back in Tokyo in just a little over a week for a training camp he hadn’t even ask to go to.

"Someone then?"

More than the words themselves, the sly smile on his brother's face threw him off more than anything. Tsukishima felt heat rise on his cheeks – even though it wasn't _someone,_ it was Yamaguchi of all people – and as his brother's grin shifted into a shocked gape, he felt the heat spread to his ears.

"Wait, do you really--"

"No!" Tsukishima denied immediately, well aware that the answer was too vehement to truly convince his brother. Almost on cue, his phone started vibrating in his pocket - likely Yamaguchi texting him back. 

Akiteru glanced at his brother’s pocket, but Tsukishima refused to even flinch. If this was a contest at keeping cool, he knew he’d long outlast his brother. Seeming to realize this himself, Akiteru turned away from him, though a maddening smiling refused to leave his face.

“I’m sure whoever it is—”

“I just said it was no one,” Tsukishima replied coolly, though he did feel a twinge of guilt at referring to Yamaguchi as no one. But the idea that he could be whatever it was that Akiteru was implying caused his stomach to twist in a way much too uncomfortable to deal with at a stupid airport.

He didn't know why he didn't just tell him it was Yamaguchi though. His brother knew about his best friend, had ended up an overexuberant babysitter for the both of them countless times growing up, and it would stop his pestering. But verbalizing that it was Yamaguchi he was talking to after reacting how he did felt too damning.

Whatever.

Definitely not something to be dealt with at an airport.

His brother shrugged at him again and pulled ahead as he tried to navigate the huge airport. Once he was sure his brother was truly focused on the trying to figure out the many signs, he discreetly pulled his phone from his pocket to check Yamaguchi’s texts.

From Yamaguchi:

_2 hours?? is everything okay??_

_but that’s fine you can still come over_

_unless you’ll be too tired??_

_which is super cool, no worries!_

Tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows, shot a quick glance at his brother, and replied:

_it was just seagulls_

_which is apparently enough to delay our flight_

_that means i’m landing at 8 and probably won’t be in miyagi until 9_

_if that works for you then that works for me_

Tsukishima ran his finger along the edge of his phone as he waited for Yamaguchi’s response. He had seemed almost nervous in his earlier texts. Which hadn’t been uncharacteristic of Yamauchi when they were kids, but Tsukishima thought he’d been outgrowing that habit.

Suddenly, the Interhigh flashed in his mind, and Tsukishima felt his face pull into a scowl.

This is why he chose to treat volleyball as just a club. Yamaguchi had been doing so well at treating high school as a fresh start, and now the progress he’d made was being set back by a moment that took less than a minute of his life. A moment that costed them only a single point but seemed to hang over his best friend like an impenetrable cloud.

And Tsukishima wasn’t great at comfort, but he’d hoped they could use the weekend to at least take their minds off volleyball before they were surrounded by it for a whole week.

He was brought out of his thoughts by his phone’s vibrations.

From Yamaguchi:

_yeah come over at 9, my parents won’t care and i wasn’t gonna asleep anyway_

_were you gonna eat at the airport or should i save you dinner??_

_also wtf??? sea gulls?? how???_

_actually forget the how, i officially hate those stupid sea pigeons_

Blinking, Tsukishima reread the texts before a soft smile crept on his face. It was dumb of him to think that Yamaguchi would be set back so much from a single game.

Typing out a quick response letting Yamaguchi know that he a) wouldn’t need dinner and b) agreed on the classification of the birds as pigeons, Tsukishima suddenly realized his brother was being too quiet.

He shot his head up, but his brother seemed to just be preoccupied with the sign in front of him. Letting a small breath of relief out, he adjusted his headphones over his head, and scanned the sign to see what food kiosks were nearby.

In front of him, Akiteru bit his lip harder to stop the smile threatening to spread. Who’d have thought the day would come when his stoic kid brother would actually get a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, haneda airport has actually had to delay flights bc there were too many seagulls vibing on the runway ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. i hate burning my finger on the toaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned to tell Oikawa just as much, only to find the setter already staring at him.
> 
> The same tension that had filled the air earlier suddenly increased by tenfold, and Iwaizumi found himself caught up in something he couldn’t even identify.
> 
> His mouth felt dry, his hands were buzzing, and he felt like he could run 100 laps around the gym, and yet he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Oikawa.
> 
> -
> 
> Iwaoi

Oikawa’s level of dedication was a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, it inspired Iwaizumi like nothing else. Seeing how hard he worked for himself and for the team made Iwaizumi want to try just as hard if not harder. He wanted to make sure that all of his best friend’s hard work wasn’t for nothing, and that he’d be the best possible ace for his setter, best possible vice-captain for his captain.

But other times, his hardworking nature felt like it was going to drag them both to an early grave.

“Just a couple more Iwa-chan.”

And while the words were light, Iwaizumi knew better than anyone that they were merely meant to distract from the edge in his tone.

“No more Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi replied, arms crossing resolutely. Oikawa looked hardly impressed. “We needed to be home over an hour ago.”

But despite what they should be doing, they were still in the high school gym, volleyball net still set up, and Iwaizumi’s patience still running thin.

“ _We_ don’t need to do anything,” Oikawa replied, idly tossing a volleyball up and down. He turned away from Iwaizumi, looking as if he was gearing up for a serve. “You could go home at anytime.”

They both knew that was bullshit. Just like they both knew that when Oikawa got like this, his stubbornness won over Iwaizumi’s.

So he was going to have to use another tactic.

“Your parents aren’t home this weekend, right?”

That got the ball to still in Oikawa’s hands.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice carefully measured. Iwaizumi watched as fingers briefly tightened over the ball. “They’re out of town until Monday.”

The beat of silence that followed was filled with a tension that Iwaizumi couldn’t place. He wished he could see Oikawa’s face to try and gauge what was happening, but he was left just staring at his back.

This definitely hadn’t been his intention.

“If we go home right now, I’ll make you the mini cheesecakes you like,” Iwaizumi said slowly in an attempt to break whatever had fallen over them. His voice sounded rough for reasons he couldn’t figure out. “And then we’ll have enough time to catch the Green Rockets and Red Falcons game tonight.”

Oikawa slowly turned towards him with a considering look in his eyes.

“And I’ll even stay up with you watching recordings of Karasuno and Shiratorizawa like a creep.”

“Aw, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa exclaimed, turning around fully and pressing the ball to his chest. “If you wanted to spend the night with me, all you had to do was say so.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, ignoring Oikawa’s lowered eyelids and his suggestive tone and the tight feeling in his chest.

He moved to walk to other side of the court, knowing that Oikawa would just whine if he made him clean the scattered balls by himself, before he was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“One more serve though,” Oikawa insisted, and Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes.

“It’s never just one more serve with you.”

“Fine,” Oikawa conceded, agreeing so quickly that it threw Iwaizumi off kilter. “Then one more set.”

Iwaizumi hesitated for just a moment, and that was more than enough for Oikawa to run with.

“I’ve been wanting to practice some higher tosses, you’ve been looking kinda sloppy Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, bounding closer to the net, and throwing the ball to Iwaizumi. “As captain, it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re up to form.”

“I’ll show you up to form,” Iwaizumi muttered, throwing his jacket to the ground. Oikawa’s smile began to turn smug, so Iwaizumi threw the ball at him before running up to the net.

Glancing at Oikawa from the corner of his eyes, he jumped up to where he knew the ball would be. And just like every other time before, it was perfectly placed for his palm to slap down against, his blood buzzing with energy he wasn’t aware he still had. As he landed, he watched the ball slam on the other side, the loud noise satisfying in a way few other things could be.

Clenching his fist, he let a cocky smirk spread across his lips.

Sloppy his ass.

He turned to tell Oikawa just as much, only to find the setter already staring at him.

The same tension that had filled the air earlier suddenly increased by tenfold, and Iwaizumi found himself caught up in something he couldn’t even identify.

His mouth felt dry, his hands were buzzing, and he felt like he had enough energy to run 100 laps around the gym, and yet he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Oikawa.

Luckily for him, Oikawa seemed to snap out of it quickly.

“Not too bad,” Oikawa beamed, breaking eye contact to look at where the ball had ended up.

Iwaizumi scoffed. They both knew that that last spike was more than not too bad. With a roll of his eyes, he grabbed Oikawa’s arm, and dragged him toward the ball cart.

Oikawa immediately began complaining.

“Iwa-chan,” he whined, flinging himself on Iwaizumi’s back. “I can’t pick up the balls, I’m too tired. You’re the one who said not to overwork myself.”

“Get off of me and pick up the mess you created, Lazykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. At Oikawa’s continued whining, he sighed deliberately loud. “You know I thought I knew how to make a good berry topping, but suddenly I can’t remember.”

A beat of silence, this one much more familiar.

“What an underhanded trick Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said pouting, resting his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi shrugged, jostling Oikawa, but not moving him from his space.

“An underhanded method for an underhanded guy.”

“Iwa-chan, mean!”

-

The walk home was fortunately free from any of the tension that had hung over them at the gym.

Oikawa rambled on about the many things on his mind, though some new alien movie did seem to be a prominent talking point. Iwaizumi mostly grunted at the most appropriate times as he led them in and out the market to grab some actual dinner before they gorged themselves on cheesecake. 

By the time they made their way back to Oikawa’s house, all Iwaizumi really wanted to do was collapse on the couch and sleep for days.

However, he made a promise and he was never one for breaking promises.

Unfortunately, Oikawa had no such qualms as leaped onto the couch.

“You could at least help me warm up our dinner,” Iwaizumi called out as he made his way into the kitchen. He shook his head as Oikawa made a noncommittal reply and pulled out the ingredients he needed for Oikawa’s stupid cheesecake.

However, as he went through the menial steps of measuring sugar and cracking an egg, he felt the days tension slowly work out of him. Just as he was finishing up with the mixture, he felt arms come around his waist and a heavy weight on his back.

“How long do I need to heat up dinner for,” Oikawa asked lowly, head hooked over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi felt himself relax even further into the warmth of Oikawa's body .

“It says it on the packaging, idiot,” Iwaizumi murmured, pouring the mixture into little tins until they were all about even. Oikawa hummed, lingering against his back for a moment more before moving to heat their dinner.

And as he gently placed the cheesecake tins in the toaster over, Iwaizumi couldn’t quite shake the bereft feeling Oikawa left him with.

Luckily, Oikawa’s timing was perfect on heating their dinner ( _“It’s because I’m a setter Iwa-chan!”, “No, it’s because your lazy and lucky.”)_ , and their food managed to be done right before the game started.

“I hope the Red Falcons win this one,” Oikawa said, pulling up his legs to sit more comfortable on the couch. Iwaizumi shrugged, not particularly invested in either of the teams but excited for a good game nonetheless.

That was how the first set went, Oikawa offering commentary and Iwaizumi giving noncommittal responses unless there was a particularly impressive play. In those instances, both of them had to resist standing up and punching the air like they had done back when they were kids.

Just as the first set came to a close, the Green Rockets winning just barely at 25-22, the toaster oven gave a bright _ding._

“Cheesecake!” Oikawa exclaimed with a clap of his hands. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but couldn’t hid the quirk of his lips as he collected their dinner plates and brought them into the kitchen.

However, once he got into the kitchen, he couldn’t for the life of him find the oven mitts. He glanced warily at the toaster oven, knowing that cheesecake was really easy to get wrong and one of the easiest ways was by overcooking it.

Whatever, it probably wasn’t even that hot.

Opening the door to the toaster oven, he carefully reached for the first ceramic tin of cheesecake. It was hot, but not unbearable, and Iwaizumi managed to get it out with just some light reddening on his fingers.

So far so good.

As he reached in for the second tin, his mind decided to screw him over with the reminder of how Oikawa’s body had felt against his while he’d been making the cheesecake.

Face heating up, his hand twitched and beat against the bottom rack.

“Fuck!”

He flinched his hand away, only to realize that all that movement jostled the toaster rack and thus the cheesecake. He rushed his hand in again, burning his hand a little more, but grasping the cheesecake just the same.

Unfortunately, the bearable heat of the ceramic was much more intense against his now burned fingers.

Hissing, he stuck his thumb in his mouth, trying his best to balance the tin on his other hand.

“Honestly Iwa-chan do you have to be such a brute all the time.”

Iwaizumi jumped at the sound of Oikawa’s voice, nearly dropping the second mini cheesecake tin. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed the troublesome dessert, managing to only wince as the still hot tin pressed against his fingers. Once it resettled, he turned to glare at Oikawa.

However, Oikawa’s gaze wasn’t meeting his own.

“Honestly, how can you lecture me about my health when you barely take care of your own,” he continued, reaching for his injured hand. Iwaizumi opened his mouth to protest – him accidentally burning his hand was _not_ comparable to Oikawa going out of his way to ignore everyone’s warnings about overexerting himself – but was interrupted by Oikawa’s hard tug to his arm.

The feeling of cool water running over his fingers jolted him from his anger, and he looked down to his hand being held by Oikawa’s under the water.

“If you don’t treat burn wounds immediately, then they can blister and fester,” Oikawa said, his eyes remaining trained on his hands. His voice sounded off though, and that caused Iwaizumi to still.

Oikawa had been particularly on edge all day. And although he had been frustrated with the late hours he was putting in the gym, he wasn’t really surprised to find him there.

He was sure it was nothing big, and that Oikawa was just stuck in his own head. If it was something major, Oikawa wouldn’t be able to help but tell him. Sometimes he had to work through things himself, and all Iwaizumi could do was be a solid presence for him.

So, Iwaizumi didn’t reply. He didn’t mention that the burn wasn’t that bad, or that he had burn cream if Oikawa was so concerned. He didn’t push him off and tell him that he can put his hand under the water by himself.

If this is what Oikawa needed to calm down after this afternoon, then Iwaizumi was going to let him have this.

The cheesecake needed time to cool anyway.

After awhile, once Oikawa’s breathing settled and they'd used enough water to warrant a questionable water bill, he nudged him softly with his shoulder.

“The cheesecake should be cooled soon,” Iwaizumi reminded him, head tilting towards the still waiting tins. “If we don’t hurry it up, then my burned hand will have been for nothing.”

A beat.

“Only you could burn your hand while making something as simple as cheesecake,” Oikawa replied breezily, turning the faucet off and leaving Iwaizumi’s side so quickly he nearly tipped over.

“There is nothing simple about cheesecake,” Iwaizumi grumbled, following Oikawa into the living room and flopping on the couch as Oikawa arrange the plates. “You would’ve ended up burning down the whole kitchen.”

“Iwa-chan is so mean, and even after I nursed back into good health,” Oikawa replied, batting his eyelashes as he settled next to Iwaizumi. “You know you could do to be a bit more grateful.”

“And you could do to clear that piece of rice of your face,” he answered, ignoring Oikawa’s indignant squawk in favor of grabbing his spoon. Pain erupted on his fingers, and he let out a quick hiss and accidentally dropped it.

While the cool water had definitely helped his burn, the skin was till tender. Whatever, the pain was honestly not that bad, and he’d mostly gasped from surprise anyway.

Bending down to pick up the fallen spoon, he was beaten to it by Oikawa’s quick reflexes.

Blinking once slowly, he turned his gaze from where his spoon had been just moments before to Oikawa’s beaming face.

“Iwa-chan, let me feed you!”

Iwaizumi immediately felt himself grimace.

“I would rather eat with my hands.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa replied, looking ridiculously scandalized. “We are a modern-day people who no longer resort to eating like barbarians.”

“You literally tear into milk bread with your bare hands daily.”

“As captain of your team, I cannot allow my ace to represent us in this way” Oikawa continued, waving his hand in Iwaizumi’s face. The heat rising in his cheeks at being called Oikawa’a ace pissed him off more than the rest of his ridiculous tirade, and Iwaizumi opened his mouth to interrupt him, but Oikawa was unrelenting. “Furthermore, if you got food on my family’s couch after inviting you into my home, the shame on your family name would last generations.”

Iwaizumi snorted at the solemn look on Oikawa’s face, his eyes rolling as he figured how this was going to end.

“I wouldn’t get food on the couch,” he said, even as he slid his plate closer to Oikawa.

The way Oikawa lit up guaranteed that he’d never even stood a change in this argument.

And it honestly wasn’t that bad.

The TV was still playing the game, and Oikawa was much less embarrassing about the whole situation than he’d thought he’d be. After a few teasing ‘Iwa-chans’, he merely alternated between feeding himself and feeding Iwaizumi. And even though Oikawa had never fed him before in his life, it still managed to be comfortable.

Sure, Oikawa had stayed frozen with a piece of cheesecake hovering in his face more than two minutes during a particularly intense volley, but Iwaizumi had been sitting there with his mouth slack for just as long.

When they’d both finished their plates, Oikawa collected them together, put them in the sink, and they finished watching the game together comfortably.

All together it was…nice.

Up until the game finished.

“You know,” Oikawa drawled, looking up at Iwaizumi with a smile that made a headache suddenly appear. He was resting his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and the resulting angle made his face look even more conniving than usual. “You really should do something to thank me for nursing and feeding you.”

Iwaizumi stretched his neck back with a groan. This was what happened when he let Oikawa get his way.

“You’re the one who insisted on feeding me remember, idiot,” he grumbled, adjusting his arm on Oikawa’s shoulder. “And I would have been more than capable of holding my hand under running water, thanks.”

Oikawa pouted a little him but continued mostly unperturbed.

“Well, I still think I deserve something for my efforts Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi looked back down, and his eyebrows shot up at the intense look in Oikawa’s eyes.

Iwaizumi would never call himself an Oikawa expert out loud, because that would mean admitting to actually paying attention to Oikawa and his mannerisms, and habits, and facial expressions. And all that would just go straight to the idiot’s head.

But in actuality, he did think he was one of the few people who could really read Oikawa.

He could tell his fake from his real, his confidence for his insecurity, his anger from his sadness. And he could basically tell what was running through his head from just about any look.

But this look wasn’t really like any he’d seen before.

If he had to match it to something, he’d say the closest thing would be when he was playing volleyball. But not the look he got when he was taunting the other team or the look he got when he was gearing up for a service ace.

But the one he got when he was in the heat of a game, eye scanning for the best possible spot to set to before making eye contact with Iwaizumi, so he knew the ball was coming to him.

It was intense, searching, and determined.

It made his breath catch, just a little.

“Fine,” he answered, voice gruffer than it had been just moments before. Oikawa’s eyes darkened before Iwaizumi continued. “We can watch that dumb alien movie you were rambling about before.”

He kept his eyes trained on Oikawa, gauging for a reaction.

It lasted a split second, but he caught the slight slack of his lips, the raise of his brow, the way his whole body seemed to deflate just a bit at the answer.

So wrong answer.

And as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished and Oikawa was back to normal.

“And you have to do the dishes,” Oikawa said with a throwing his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I can’t believe Iwa-chan was actually listening to me on the way home, you really do care!”

Iwaizumi studied him a moment more, before getting up with a sigh.

“At least get the movie ready so that I can nap once I’m done with cleaning the meal _I_ made.”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him, but Iwaizumi was too lost in his own thoughts to shove at him.

That was clearly not what Oikawa had wanted him to say, or maybe even do, but he’d carried on like it was nothing. And that was not on brand for Oikawa at any capacity.

As he started the water for the dishes, he stared at it for a moment longer, remembering the feeling of it running over his and Oikawa’a clasped hands.

That had also been…nice.

“Hurry up Iwa-chan, or I’m going to start the movie without you!”

“Is that a promise?” Iwaizumi called back, shaking his head.

Maybe he didn’t know what that look had meant now, but there were few who were as adept at reading Oikawa as he was.

And he was determined to figure out exactly what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iwa-chan is just such *clenches fist* a dumbass
> 
> i love him so much


	3. and i hate nits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had a crush on Hinata.
> 
> Kageyama Tobio had a crush on Hinata Shouyo.
> 
> God, this was the worst day of his life.  
> -  
> Kagehina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry it's been a hot minute, things have been hectic but social distancing is forcing me to write!!
> 
> just for those worried about the chapter title, i personally hate nits and bugs and any mention of them so i went out of my way to mention them as little as possible!
> 
> if you’re still concerned they only part its really addressed is from ““Ah, alright, alright, I’m sorry,”” to “The whole team winced at the thought”
> 
> *for additional context and very minor spoilers for the story*  
> Natsu gets lice and Hinata needs a place to stay while his house gets cleaned out.

Hinata was late for practice.

Kageyama bounced a volleyball against the ground with a furrowed brow.

Okay, maybe that was a little bit unfair.

Kageyama knew that morning practice didn’t technically start for another hour, but he and Hinata always got there earlier anyway.

And he was late.

He bounced the ball again.

Who cared if Hinata was late? They never actually officially agreed to meeting at this time, it was just a habit that was born from their earliest days on the team. Hinata didn’t owe him by being there, and Kageyama didn’t show up for him anyway. He showed up for himself.

Focusing on the task at hand, Kageyama cleared his mind of all thoughts of Hinata. There was plenty he could do without the idiot anyway. His serves could always use some work.

Making his way to the far corner of the court, Kageyama refused to let his eyes linger on the doors of the gym. Tossing the ball up, he ran a couple step and leaped up high.

The toss was perfect, his reach was high, and now all he had to do was connect-

“Kageyama!”

Startled, Kageyama swung his arm too early and missed the ball completely. Clenching his fist, he turned to glare at the intruder.

“Whoa, is that the look you give the teammate who let you into the gym,” Tanaka laughed, pulling a cart of volleyballs with him. Suga followed along as well, though he seemed a bit distracted.

“Where Hinata?” Suga asked, turning a full 360 in place. Tanaka perked up at the question as well and began looking around the gym as if expecting Hinata to jump out and yell ‘Surprise!’.

“Not here,” was Kageyama’s clipped response as he bent over to grab the volleyball he’d failed at serving. When he straightened out, he startled at seeing both his upperclassmen staring at him. “…what?”

“Well, where is he?” Tanaka asked exasperatedly.

Kageyama felt his shoulders begin to rise.

“How should I know?” he bit out. Not that it bothered him that he didn’t know why Hinata was missing practice for the first time that school year. “I’m not his keeper.”

“No, no we know that,” Suga answered with a placating wave. “We’re just…surprised is all.”

“You two didn’t get into another fight again did you,” Tanaka interjected, arms crossed and eyes stern. Kageyama turned his head away, shame falling over him at the memory.

“Not that I know of…” Kageyama replied, though the thought had crossed his mind. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d managed to piss Hinata off without even being aware of it. That seemed to be a core elemental to their dynamic.

But even after the two of them had gotten into that truly awful fight before the training camp, they’d both known to keep volleyball out of it. They still practiced, both together and apart, because they knew that volleyball came before whatever pettiness might exist between them.

So whatever was keeping Hinata had to have been worse than that.

Kageyama squeezed the ball in his hand a little tighter.

“Ah, no need to be worried Kageyama!” Suga said, placing firm hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “I’m sure Hinata is on his way now.”

“I’m not worried,” Kageyama replied, but Tanaka’s laughing drowned it out. Feeling a flush rise on his cheeks, he turned away from the two.

“Don’t be so cross,” Tanaka said, throwing his arm over the setter’s shoulders. “You can just toss to me until Hinata gets here.”

And that’s what Kageyama did, practice his tosses to Tanaka, and then to Asahi when he got there, all while keeping an eye on the ever-ticking clock.

Then, 14 minutes before practice was due to officially start, Hinata came bounding in.

Kageyama opened his mouth immediately to demand where he’d been before promptly closing it.

It wasn’t any of his business where Hinata had been. If the idiot wanted to spend his morning doing anything other than practicing volleyball, that was his choice.

Besides, even if he didn't want to know, Hinata was all too willing to share.

“Having a little sister is the worse!”

“Eh?” Nishinoya asked, coming over to greet Hinata. By now, everyone on the team had arrived at the gym, even Tsukishima. “I thought you said your sister was the only one in your family willing to watch volleyball matches with you.”

Hinata whined as Tanaka came up to him as well and ruffled his hair.

“You shouldn’t go around bad-mouthing your sister,” he added with a wink. “You never know when they’re gonna drive you five hours to Tokyo for a training camp.”

“Ah, alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Hinata moped, looking properly chastised. “It’s just that while she was at _her_ camp this past week, she got lice.”

At that Nishinoya and Tanaka jumped a meter away from Hinata, Tanaka staring at his hand in horror.

“No, it’s fine!” Hinata exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. “My mom checked my hair super thoroughly when I woke up this morning and couldn’t find anything. That’s why it took me so late to get here!”

Kageyama felt his face drop. He’d been worried about the idiot, and he was just running late because of some stupid lice. He glanced around at the team, trying to gauge their reactions as well.

Most of them looked relieved, confirming that Kageyama hadn't been the only one who'd been worried. Good. Tanaka still looked wary, but Nishinoya slapped him across the back.

“What are _you_ even worried about,” he laughed while trying to swipe his hand across Tanaka’s head. “Your head is completely shaved.”

“Is Natsu-chan doing okay?” Suga asked, drawing attention away from where Tanaka was attempting to lunge at Nishinoya.

“Eh,” Hinata grimaced. “It’s pretty bad. There aren’t just lice, but nits too. Mom had to put mitts on her hand to keep her from scratching.”

The whole team winced at the thought, before Ukai’s whistle being blown captured their attention.

From there, practice started as usual and Kageyama didn’t give the situation a second thought.

Until he reached the club room.

“So are you going back home after this?” Daichi asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Kageyama figured the concern was valid. Even if Hinata was all good now, he’d have to be very careful while at home to make sure he didn’t get anything. It would probably be more of a hassle than anything.

“Oh!” Hinata replied, eyes scanning the room. “I wanted to ask if I could stay a couple of nights with…”

Kageyama let the words wash over him as Hinata trailed off. It made sense that Hinata would want to avoid his home for the next couple of days, but he wasn’t sure who he’d ask. He himself would be a bit intimidated of asking the upperclassmen such a request and would rather die than ask pretty much any favor of Tsukishima. Yamaguchi seemed like a good option, and Kageyama lifted his head to see where their pinch server went.

“Kageyama!”

Oh no.

Before he could even properly turn at the sound of his name, Hinata was already landed in front of him from across the club room.

“Please, please, please let me stay at your house!” Hinata asked, bowing low before him. “Just for the next couple of days while the whole lice thing gets fixed!”

He didn’t think Hinata had ever properly bowed to him before.

“No.”

“Ehh!?!”

“Why don’t you ask…just about anyone else,” Kageyama answered, packing up his bag to avoid eye contact. He’d never personally been subject to Hinata’s puppy eyes, but according to Suga they were lethal. He made quick work of it, and attempted to rush out of the club room.

“There is no one else!” Hinata exclaimed, grabbing his stuff and rushing over to follow Kageyama. “I can’t ask the upperclassmen because then I’d be too bothersome. Tsukishima would never let me over, and Yamaguchi doesn’t have the extra space.”

“I’m not dealing with you at my home,” Kageyama replied, waving Hinata off. “You’d probably break something.”

“But Kageyama if I don’t stay with you, that means I have to go home,” Hinata complained, pulling at his arm. “And if I go home, I’ll definitely get lice and then I’ll be quarantined and then we won’t be able to practice the new quick before the Miyaga qualifier!”

That caught Kageyama’s attention.

While they’d managed a lot of progress on the move while at the training camp, there were still a lot of times when he couldn’t get the ball to float at the just right spot or Hinata couldn’t get the timing quite right.

The last thing they needed was for Hinata to be out of commission with something as stupid as lice.

He turned to tell Hinata what a bother this whole situation truly was, but the words were caught in his throat as he caught Hinata’s wide eyes.

Shit, Suga was right.

Harmless was not a word Kageyama would have ever used to describe Hinata, but in this moment with his head titled up, eyes wide and pleading, and lips pursed in truly impressive pout, the boy almost looked cute.

And if that thought didn’t just add to Kageyama’s already sour mood.

“Can’t you just shave your head?”

Hinata’s distraught wailing was answer enough.

“Alright,” he hissed, eyes narrowed at Hinata’s loud display. “You can stay at my place. But if you mess anything up, you’ll sleep in the yard.”

“Alright, sleepover at Kageyama’s!”

“Are your upperclassmen invited?”

“Is it bring your own blanket?”

Kageyama had never felt regret so instantly.

-

Walking home with a large, warm box in his arms while Hinata trudged alongside him with his bike and too many bags strapped across his body was not how Kageyama ever expected his evening to go.

At least the melonpan in the box smelled good.

When he had called his mother to see if Hinata staying over the next couple days was actually feasible, he hadn’t been expected her to be so excited about it. She’d assured him that it would be no problem, and then told him to ask Hinata what his favorite meal was. He’d never been more confused by his mother in his life.

Likewise, it had seemed like Hinata hadn’t expected his own mother’s gratitude on the matter.

“Mom,” he whined when she came by the school to drop of some of his things and a large box. “It’s just Kageyama, why does he get a whole thing of your melonpan.”

“It’s not just Kageyama,” his mother had reprimanded, shooting an apologetic look at him. As if that was the worst thing her son had ever said about him. “It’s his parents who are the one who are welcoming you to their home, so you better behave.”

And as they got closer to the house, Kageyama seriously doubted that was going to happen.

The entire walk home Hinata had been talking about practice and volleyball, and working himself up so that he was practically jumping the by the time they turned onto his street.

Not that Kageyama wasn’t as into the conversation as Hinata was.

But he doubted that his house was going to be enough to contain all the energy that Hinata seemed to be full of.

But oh was he surprised once he entered his house.

“Thank you so much for having me Kageyama-san,” Hinata had said as soon as he caught sight of his mother. He dipped into a low bow, and Kageyama almost got whiplash from the contrast of the bouncing Hinata who’d walked up to the door with him to the respectful Hinata standing next to him. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, and my mother offers her gratitude as well.”

He then snatched the box from Kageyama’s still frozen body and presented it to his mother with a beam.

His mother never stood a chance.

“Oh, it’s absolutely no problem,” she exclaimed, taking the box from Hinata and ushering them both past the foyer. “I need to get your mother something back for making all this for us!”

Sensing that he was in line to become a delivery boy in an endless stream of thank you gifts, Kageyama quickly interrupted that train of thought.

“We just need to bring his stuff up, and we can come down for dinner,” he said as he tried dragging Hinata up to his room.

“Oh, did you need any help setting up?” Hinata asked, and Kageyama huffed as his mother's eyes lit up.

And as he was forced to lug up Hinata’s stuff by himself while Hinata helped his mother set up for dinner, Kageyama wished he would have been a little stronger against Hinata’s stupid face.

God, who even was weak to just someone’s face.

When he finally made his way down for dinner, he was wholly unprepared for what followed.

Hinata was much more polite than he’d ever seen him be before, eating without making a complete mess of himself and complimenting his mother’s cooking. He made conversation with his father and laughed at all the childhood stories his parents were keen to share about him.

It was unnerving.

“He really is a good boy,” Kageyama’s mother said to him as Hinata engaged in a story full of sound effects with his father. “I see why you talk about him so much.”

He’d choked immediately on the food in his mouth, and his only consolation was that Hinata had also choked while laughing at him

After dinner, his mother insisted that neither of them needed to help put away the dishes, which had never happened to Kageyama in his _life_ , and shooed them away to the living room. The whole thing felt surreal.

“Here,” Kageyama said, tossing Hinata the remote. He wasn’t in the mood to watch anything. “I’m going to go get your futon ready.”

He got up before Hinata could say anything back. As he made his way toward the linen closet, Kageyama couldn’t quite shake the feeling settling over his chest.

Despite his worries, it hadn’t felt strange or obtrusive to have Hinata in his home. Instead, it had felt comfortable. He’d fit in well, talked easily with his parents, and looked _right_ against the backdrop of his living room.

He squeezed his fist around the door of the closet.

Hinata fit so easily here, just like he seemed to fit so easily with everything.

Even him.

“You have the Black Jackals game recorded!”

Kageyama jolted, and guiltily grabbed at the futon folded up in the closet.

What did he even feel guilty for?

“Yeah,” Kageyama replied, though he was sure his voice was muffled behind the futon is his arms. “Are you going to help with this or?”

“We should watch the game! We both missed it while we were at the training camp, and it’ll make this feel like a real sleepover!”

“You’re sleeping in my house and eating my food,” Kageyama grumbled, setting the futon down in the living room. Hinata could just sleep here for all he cared. “Seems like a real enough sleepover to me.”

“No, you idiot!” Hinata exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “A sleepover where we watch tv and play games and stay up all night telling scary stories.”

“It’s a school night.”

“You’re missing the point! Haven’t you ever had a sleepover with your friends before?”

And Kageyama knew Hinata was dense, but by this point he really should’ve gotten a handle on who he was dealing with. Not that he even gave Kageyama the chance to respond.

“Go put the futon in your room, and bring out as many blankets as you can,” Hinata commanded, and Kageyama felt his eye twitch. “I’ll set up the TV, and me and you are gonna watch this game together!”

And while Kageyama wanted to ignore him for the sole reason of defying his orders, Hinata’s determined face was even more lethal than his puppy eyed face.

And as he found when he picked up the futon and started bringing it back to his room, Hinata’s truly pleased face seemed to top them all.

It honestly wasn’t fair for one person’s face to have that much power.

-

“And then, when the ball went woosh and then bam after that long volley, I almost forgot how to breath!”

Watching the game with Hinata wasn’t exactly like playing with him, but it did have a lot of similarities.

Kageyama had never watched a volleyball game with anyone before. He’d grown up practicing alone, learning about it alone, and watching games on the TV alone. And it’s not that he resented anything or anyone, he’d gotten to be really good despite all that.

But this…

“We should try and do that cross-court move, I bet we could get it no time!”

This made his feel excited about volleyball in a completely new way. A way where he saw an impressive strategy, and instead of thinking, ‘I can learn to set like that,’ thinking, ‘We could do a play like that’.

And it felt good to cheer and shout at the scream in sync with someone next to him, even when his mother came to tell them to quiet down with a fond smile on her face.

He couldn’t remember the last time just watching a volleyball match had ever felt that fun.

“Get ready for bed,” is what Kageyama replied with. “A sleepover is no excuse for being late to practice.”

Hinata continued with his rambling as if Kageyama hadn’t said anything but was moving to get ready for bed. He pulled toiletries out of his bag, helped himself to Kageyama’s on-suite bathroom, and only stopped talking when he choked on his toothbrush during a particularly expressive sound effect.

Kageyama couldn’t even find it in himself to be at all bothered by it.

And as they settled for bed, silence blanketing over them, Kageyama couldn’t help but wish Hinata would speak for just a little longer.

“Kageyama.”

Fuck, could he read his thoughts?

“Thanks for letting me stay at your place.”

Oh.

“I know you didn’t really want me to, and that it was last minute, but I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want you to,” Kageyama replied, much too quickly and much too loud. He thanked whatever gods existed that Hinata couldn’t see how red his face was. “I just – I never had a sleepover before,” okay and actually could those gods just strike him dead now, “And I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

Hinata hummed, and then let out a quiet yawn.

Kageyama wanted to die even more.

It was quiet for a long moment, and just as he thought he could finally release his breath, Hinata spoke again.

“Well I’m glad I could be the first person to have a sleepover with you,” he murmured sleepily. “I know I gave a lot of excuses, but you really were the one I wanted to sleepover with the most on the team.”

_Oh._

Kageyama waited with bated breath for Hinata to say something else, to expand on the part of his sentence that was causing his chest to explode with fondness for boy.

But all he got was a muffled final ‘Goodnight’, the sounds of a rustling blanket, and Hinata’s slowly evening breaths.

And wasn’t that real convenient for him, going to sleep while Kageyama was faced with the truly crushing realization that he had on a crush on the idiot.

He had a crush on Hinata.

Kageyama Tobio had a crush on Hinata Shouyo.

God, this was the worst day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter should be out much more quickly then this!
> 
> i'm also working on another, much angstier story and should be posting the first chapter of it soon so be on the look out for that too
> 
> thanks for bearing with the wait, and thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos!!


	4. i hate falling over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our kohais are so cute. If not completely oblivious.”
> 
> “They get it from their upperclassmen.”
> 
> Hanamaki bit back a chuckle. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were so ridiculous.
> 
> He did not notice the exasperated look Matsukawa sent his way.  
> -  
> MatsuHana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the lovely comments so far! i plan i replying to each of them soon, and hope you all enjoy the chapter!

This was the worst practice of the season, and quite possibly his entire high school volleyball career.

And while Hanamaki would usually be the one dragging Oikawa for a thought like that, he can’t help the dramatics when looking at the state of the team.

Yahaba’s serves had been all over the place today, and Watari was barely able to return even half of them.

Kunimi and Kindaichi were attempting to get a volley going, but neither of their receives were accurate enough to get to the other person consistently.

Oikawa would typically be doing some sort of damage control, but he was struggling at getting Kyoutani to listen to him while Iwaizumi stood to the side – clearly at war as to whether he should step in or let Oikawa handle it. He’d never seen the ace look so unsure in his life.

The only other person who seemed put together was Matsukawa, but that was always the case.

“Coach looks like he’s about to cancel practice,” he murmured from Hanamaki’s side. He looked up to find his coach looking at the group in complete confusion.

He let out a snort.

“You could pretend to be more concerned about our team,” Matsukawa said with a grin.

“Your team. It’s not my team when it looks like this.”

“Fine. Oikawa’s team.”

“Better,” Hanamaki replied with a sigh. “But you’re right. At this rate we’re not going to make it past round one of the prefectural qualifier.”

“I’ve never seen everyone so on edge,” Matsukawa said. “The first years don’t typically overthink _this_ much…”

“But they’ve got all that drama with Karasuno’s number 10.”

“Right. And the second years usually help reel them in…”

“But they’re too worried they’re going to disappoint their senpai.”

“And while we’re the perfect image of cool and collected…”

“Oikawa and Iwaizumi are ruining it for everyone,” Hanamaki finished with a huff. He gave a final look at the group in front of him, and then gave a long-suffering sigh. “But whatever happens we can’t let coach cancel practice. It’ll just get to everyone’s heads.”

Hanamaki began swiftly walking over with his eyes set in determination at his coach. Unfortunately, he did not notice he was crossing the court Yahaba and Watari were using until Watari’s receive was already making impact with him.

Startled, but not bruised, he looked up to see the libero staring at him with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry Hanamaki-san! I didn’t even realize you were there…”

Ignoring the fact that Watari had no reason to be the one apologizing, Hanamaki looked to see that he was not only standing in the middle of the court but was right where Oikawa would typically be in a game. Watari had managed a receive that went perfectly to where their setter should be. While most any other practice this would be a regular feat, today it felt like a goddamn miracle. Hanamaki couldn’t help the happy grin that spread across his face.

“If you keep receiving like that, you can hit me all you want.”

It dawned on him a moment later just how depraved that comment sounded.

The silence that immediatly fell over the team meant that everyone had not only heard, but also agreed.

The sound of choked laughter came from the direction of Yahaba. What sounded suspiciously like a giggle seemed to be coming from Kunimi.

Suddenly the whole gym was laughing at the truly awful sounding pick-up line. Hanamaki turned to check and even the ever stoic Kyoutani seemed to be muffling laughter into his fist. He let out a surprised chuckle himself, and the tension that had filled the room before seemed to be slowly seeping out.

“Stop accosting your underclassmen, Makki,” Oikawa called from across the gym. Hanamaki rolled his eyes at him but couldn’t stop smiling. “And enough with the individual practices. We’re working on receives, everyone go line up…”

And from there practice took an entire 180.

Hanamaki could hardly believe that had even happened.

“So, you also saw how successful that was,” he said, sidling up next to Matsukawa as he packed his belongings up. They were the last two left in the club room, and Hanamaki thanked whatever deity may be for that. He had an idea he didn’t want to run by anyone else yet.

“Yeah, I can’t remember the last time I saw the team together and laughing,” Matsukawa replied. His eyes still looked as bored as ever, but there was a thoughtful glint to them. “Even if it was a complete accident on your part.”

“Matsukawa you wound me,” Hanamaki replied easily, throwing an arm around him. “Obviously it was an accident. I would never stray from you.”

“Obviously,” Matsukawa repeated with mock seriousness. “But your near infidelity did pretty much save practice.”

“Yeah, and who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t so gracefully intervened,” Hanamaki said with a rueful smile.

“Everyone is so tense,” Matsukawa added. “And worst of all is Oikawa.”

“And Iwaizumi has his hands full dealing with him,” Hanamaki replied before tilting his head sagely. “Then there’s only one thing that must be done.”

“It falls upon our humble shoulders,” Matsukawa agreed, a smirk climbing up his face.

“We must diffuse the tension on the team, even if it costs us our lives.”

“Our lives?”

“Our dignity.”

“Yeah, no, I’d rather risk our lives.”

-

Hanamaki scratched out another line of writing with a slump and felt Matsukawa lean over him to see his progress. He resisted the urge to lean back against his him.

He did not appreciate the immediate laughter.

“Okay, I can admit that this is not what I thought you meant.”

“I mean this is what worked this morning! If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.”

He gestured down to his marked-up paper and had to hold back a grimace as he reread what he’d written. While pick-up lines seemed easy in theory, trying to write some to use on the team proved much more difficult.

What had happened with Watari was a complete accident, and the only other person he could actually flirt with ease was Matsukawa. Which was a problem for another day. But if they were going to bring back levity to the team, he needed to figure out a way to woo them. Platonically, of course.

He relayed as much to Matsukawa.

“You got lucky with Watari though,” Matsukawa pointed out. “This whole team is filled with emotionally repressed would-be couples who can’t seem to get their shit together.”

And Matsukawa said that a little to pointedly for Hanamaki to not to feel a little panicked.

Luckily, Oikawa interrupted before he could delve too deep into that.

“Makki,” he sang as he collapsed at the desk across from him. “I happen to know the _best_ stationary store if you’re trying to plan the most perfect confession for Watari.”

Hanamaki glanced at Matsukawa and is met with a single nod.

“Get out.”

“Leave.”

“What?” Oikawa whined, looking between the two of them. “It was only a joke!”

And Hanamaki definitely knew that. But he also knew that letting Oikawa get involved with this was a big no-no, especially since he was one of the people they were attempting to de-stress.

“I need Hanamaki’s undivided attention to make up for his betrayal at practice,” Matsukawa deadpanned, and Hanamaki nodded urgently.

“If I don’t make up for it now, he’ll never give me his hand.”

“You two are so weird,” Oikawa pouted as he grabbed his things. Iwaizumi chose that moment to walk in the classroom and was immediately pulled back out by Oikawa as he yelled plaintively about the quality of his friends.

Hanamaki looked at the door for a couple moments more, before turning to Matsukawa.

“So that situation…”

“We’re not touching with a ten-meter pole,” Matsukawa confirmed, and Hanamaki sighed in relief.

But what to do about all the other couples.

“You’re right about them being repressed,” Hanamaki huffed. “If we hit on any of the players caught in a will-they-won’t-they situation, the other half of the pair is gonna get jealous.”

“And petty.”

“And unbearable.”

“And we’d just end up with a second Oikawa,” Matsukawa said with a smirk, and Hanamaki let out a startled laugh. He felt a flush start to rise on his cheeks at the sound, and immediately began beating it back.

He was pretty sure the reason he was still sane despite all the mounting stress was because had Matsukawa with him. Well, not _with_ him, not in the way he’d like him to be at least. But he was barely holding on to his sanity with everything surrounding him – and was clearly close to the edge as his current plan proved – and the last thing he needed was an attempt at confessing to his best friend.

He half wished someone could tell Matsukawa for him.

“Oh!” Hanamaki said, slamming his hands on his desk. “We hit on them _for_ them!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You never have to apologize because you’re never wrong,” Hanamaki said automatically. He did not catch Matsukawa’s light blush. “But we will simply hit on our teammates on behalf of the others.”

“How exactly would that work?”

“Hey Matsukawa, can you lend Oikawa a map? Because he keeps getting lost in your eyes.”

Matsukawa busted out laughing and Hanamaki couldn’t help the pleased expression that spread on his face.

“Oh, stop looking so smug,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I was only laughing at how ridiculous you sounded. And that you hit on me for Oikawa of all people.”

“But you agree that it can work?”

“I agree to try it out,” Matsukawa relented. “But we’re trying it out on the person least likely to punch us for it.”

“Kindaichi?”

“Kindaichi.”

-

Hanamaki peered around the corner and ran his eyes across the courtyard until he finally found their target.

“Oh, they’re by the vending machines,” Matsukawa said from above him. “And Kunimi is already buying Kindaichi a drink.”  
  
“Our kohais are so cute. If not completely oblivious.”

“They get it from their upperclassmen.”

Hanamaki bit back a chuckle. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were so ridiculous.

He did not notice the exasperated look Matsukawa sent his way.

“Let’s head over now, while they’re distracted and can’t get away.”

Not that he thought Kindaichi would run at the sight of them, but Kunimi had an excellent talent for sniffing out bullshit and Hanamaki didn’t want to risk him pulling Kindaichi away at the first glance of them. Once they were close enough that the two wouldn’t be able to escape, Hanamaki let a large grin spread on his face.

“Hey Matsukawa,” Hanamaki loudly announced as he strolled up to the underclassmen. Kindaichi gave a small jump. Kunimi didn’t bother to look up from his chocolate milk. “Are you sure Karasuno is the one who ended up with the brilliant setter?”

At his question, both Kindaichi and Kunimi’s faces darkened. Hanamaki felt his grin shift into something a little more natural. And devious.

“Because these two here look like a perfect set to me.”

Kunimi’s face immediately snapped up to look up at Hanamaki in horror. Kindaichi looked absolutely confused. They both opened their mouth to speak up, but Matsukawa was a step ahead.

“Kunimi may not call for the ball, but he never hesitates to call for Kindaichi,” Matsukawa said, sounding absolutely bored about the ordeal. Kunimi looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. He began speaking but was swiftly cut off.

“Is this supposed to—”

“Kindaichi, can you be Kunimi’s libero and receive all his love?”

“Yikes.”

“What do you mean yikes? You approved that one!”

“Hearing it out loud makes it sound so much worse.”

“What are you—” Kunimi tried to speak up again, but Hanamaki could not leave his pride on the line. He turned fully to a still befuddled Kindaichi.

“If Kunimi served his heart to you, would you get it?”

He was pretty sure he just heard Kunimi choke.

“Does that even make sense?”

“Matsukawa, is now really the time for that?”

“Is this really the time for any of this?” Kunimi interrupted. His eyes kept darting between the two of them and Kindaichi, and he looked absolutely torn between fleeing the situation and staying to keep watch for Kindaichi, who still looked lost.

“…Senpai?” he finally said slowly. “Are you hitting on me? For Kunimi?”

Hanamaki bit back a laugh as Kunimi’s face flamed up at the question. He'd barely begun nodding before he heard laughter ring out across the courtyard.

Kindaichi’s laughter.

“That’s. So. Dumb.” Kindaichi managed to gasp between laughs, and soon after Kunimi was laughing along. Kindaichi laughed a couple moments more before his words seemed to catch up with him and his eyes went wide. “Not that I think either of you are dumb!”

“I do.”

“Kunimi!”

“It’s fine, that last line was very dumb,” Matsukawa assuaged Kindaichi, and Hanamaki shot him a betrayed look. “We’ll buy you another round of drinks to make up for it.”

“It’s okay! You don't need to do that for us!” Kindaichi said, arms waving in front of him. Kunimi pulled him to the side and gestured at the vending machines. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. Or Kunimi’s face got that red.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Kunimi drawled, but Hanamaki did catch the small smile on his face.

He glanced over at Matsukawa who shared a quick smile with him.

So far so good.

-

“I don’t want to get bit!”

“We run that risk whether we focus on Yahaba or him.”

Matsukawa let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine,” he relented. “But absolutely no volleyball puns.”

“I hate that you’re right, especially since I came up with some truly amazing ones.”

“Try them on me later, right now we need to stop those two from going at each at each other’s necks long enough to intervene naturally.”

“…Do you think dog themed—”

“I hope you get bit.”

Luckily for Hanamaki and Matsukawa, the disagreement Yahaba and Kyoutani were having was so disruptive they were able to have this discussion without whispering. Not so fortunately, it did look like their evening was going boil down to watching the two go back and forth at each other.

And while Hanamaki had jumped at the opportunity to watch over the two when Kyoutani had begrudgingly admitted he wanted some extra practice and Iwaizumi had forbade Oikawa from staying late at all this week, he hadn’t quite anticipated how…volatile the second years would be.

“That ball was way too high for anyone to get!”

“If you didn’t move so erratically, I’d be able to set more accurately!”

“If you were a better setter, I’d be able to move however I pleased.”

And Hanamaki couldn’t disagree that Kyoutani deserved the ball Yahaba launched at his face.

He also didn’t want to be liable for a double homicide.

“Okay you two,” he called out before Kyoutani could retaliate. “How about we play a little game of two on two.”

That perked both of their interest.

“I hate you,” Matsukawa said to him about 15 minutes later as he gasped for breath.

“This is fine,” Hanamaki replied through his own gasps. He had forgotten how truly draining two on two's were and was regretting his decision a little himself. “Look how much better they’re getting along!”

He did not miss the baleful look Matsukawa sent him.

“Anything would have been an improvement from before.”

“Are you two gonna chat, or are you already forfeiting?” Yahaba called from the other side of the net with a viscous smirk. Hanamaki cursed Oikawa for taking the second year under his wing.

“Let me be the one to remind you that we’re the ones who are winning,” Matsukawa replied as he readied a serve. It flew cleanly to the other side of the net, and Hanamaki watched diligently at his teammates’ movements.

“That won’t matter if we can outlast you,” Kyoutani replied with a grin as he received the ball. It arched beautifully to Yahaba, and Hanamaki kept his eyes on the setter. Kyoutani was too much of a wild card to get a read off, so following Yahaba’s cues was his best bet.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Yahaba had much more energy than he’d anticipated, and he jumped much higher to set the ball than he’d had the entire practice match. Kyoutani jumped to a truly impressive height himself, and Hanamaki wasn’t even upset as the ball was spiked onto their side.

He was a little upset about the smug looks on his underclassmen’s faces though.

“Kyoutani smile like that for Yahaba more. I think it gives him little bursts of energy.” Matsukawa called as he chased after the ball.

Oh, that was brilliant.

Even more brilliant was the flustered look on both their faces.

“What—”

“Your serve,” Matsukawa interrupted as he tossed the ball to Kyoutani. “Don’t mess up.”

He served directly into the net.

“Now there’s no need to make such an expression,” Hanamaki scolded as he geared up for his own serve. “Even if that scowl seems to be the key to making Yahaba swoon on his feet.”

Kyoutani almost missed the receive, and Yahaba’s set was shaky at best. Hanamaki almost felt bad for them. Matsukawa apparently did _not_ feel the same way.

“Spike the ball a little harder next time, Kyoutani” Matsukawa teased right before jumping for his own spike. Hanamaki tried not to get distracted by the sliver of skin revealed by his t-shirt. “I’m pretty sure now that’s what’s motivating Yahaba to play so well.”

The two nearly collided trying to get the ball, and then immediately jumped three feet apart. The ball landed neatly between them.

This should not be this much fun.

“You two remind me of a young Oikawa and Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki called out right before he served again. His comment didn’t distract either boy from receiving the ball this time, but he could see them both flush with pride.

Good.

“I completely agree,” Matsukawa said as he received Kyoutani’s spike with a smirk. Hanamaki got under it to set and smirked back as Matsukawa continued speaking. “Just try not follow them in the whole pining for each other for years thing.”

Matsukawa spiked the ball, but both boys were too frozen to move to receive. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the ball from ricocheting from the floor and launching straight into Kyoutani’s face.

Oops.

Hanamaki immediately moved to the other side of the net, praying there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. The last thing he needed was Oikawa, or worse coach, or _worse_ Iwaizumi chewing him out for this. But as he reached the collapsed Kyoutani, he was surprised to see the younger boy laughing under his breath.

“Those two do have their heads stuck way up their asses.”

Hanamaki felt his jaw drop.

He heard Yahaba finally let his own laughter out – laughter he suspected he’d been trying to suppress since Kyoutani got hit in the face – and a few seconds later Matsukawa joined in.

As the situation crashed over him, Hanamaki let the laughter overtake him as well.

Who knew the Mad Dog had such an infectious laugh?

-

Hanamaki felt unstoppable. He’d managed to get a good portion of the team in much better spirits, all without a single instance of bodily harm! Well to his body at least.

He kinda wanted to push his luck.

“If we were the ones who managed to pull them from their place of deep seeded longing after all this time, Oikawa would owe us a life debt,” Hanamaki said as they walked up towards the roof for lunch. “I know it isn’t worth much now, but you _know_ that it’ll be worth plenty when he’s in his late 20’s and a rising dictator.”

Matsukawa snorted.

“While a life debt does sound great, that situation just feels to complicated,” he replied. “I’ll support you if you want to do this, but I’m not helping.”

Hanamaki deflated just a little. He noticed Matsukawa watching him from the corner of his eye, but before either could say anything, they were opening the doors to the roof.

“You could look a little happier to see us,” Oikawa called out with a wave. His bento box was open, and the asshole clearly hadn’t waited for them to get there before eating. Iwaizumi looked exhausted to his side, and Hanamaki worried he’d keel over at any second.

“The roof is the most inconvenient place to have lunch,” Hanamaki replied as he sat with an exaggerated groan. “You just like sitting here because you want your life to be a TV drama.”

Oikawa let out a knowing hum, and Hanamaki felt his heart skip a beat in fear.

Oikawa knowing things was never a good thing.

“You two would know a thing or two about dramas,” he said with a smirk on his face. “Specifically romance dramas, hm?”

“What makes you say that,” Matsukawa said, his face revealing absolutely nothing.

Hanamaki could kiss the man.

“I’m the captain _and_ setter of this team. It’s my duty to know what’s happening not only within the group, but interpersonally between the members. Of course I found out what you guys have been up to behind—”

“Kyoutani came ranting to me about you two,” Iwaizumi interrupted, clearly over the dramatics. Oikawa let out a petulant whine. “Kindaichi mentioned it too, but he was less angry and more giggly.”

“The Iwaizumi fan club strikes again,” Matsukawa laughed.

“There’s an Iwa-chan fan club??”

Hanamaki had more pressing concerns.

“And you told Oikawa?”

He had never felt so betrayed.

“No,” Iwaizumi replied with a snort. “Obviously, this dumbass was right next to me at the time.”

“Obviously,” Matsukawa repeated with a wry grin.

“You wouldn’t have told me if I wasn’t there?” Oikawa demanded. At Iwaizumi’s deadpan stare, he jutted his bottom lip out. “But Iwa-chan, why?”

“Because you would have made a bigger deal out of it than it was,” Iwaizumi replied with a tired sigh. He gestured at Hanamaki and Matsukawa with a grateful smile. “Even if it’s kinda dumb, everyone does seem to be a lot less stressed out these days.”

Hanamaki furrowed his brows at Iwaizumi. He’d been looking more tired than usual lately, and while he’d initially chalked it up to the prefectural qualifiers, he was now starting to worry it might be something else. He’d bother him about it later though. Oikawa looked too offended not to pull Iwaizumi’s attention back towards him.

“So you’re willing to keep secrets from me?”

“This doesn’t count as a secret Shittykawa.”

Hanamaki did not point out that Iwaizumi hadn’t disagreed.

“No matter,” Oikawa continued, ignoring Iwaizumi completely. “That just means I must be by your side, supervising you, at all times.”

He reached out to pull at Iwaizumi at the same time the ace stood up.

“Yeah, no,” he said, pulling his wallet from his bag. “Anyone want to come with me to the vending machine?”

“I’ll go,” Matsukawa replied before Oikawa could even open his mouth. The two were already walking through the door by the time the setter pulled his jaw from the ground, and Hanamaki only laughed a little. Oikawa shot him a dirty look for it, and pulled his bento closer to his chest.

“Iwa-chan does have a point though,” Oikawa said, turning his gaze back to the rice with a scowl. “You two have been really helping with the team lately. So. Thanks.”

And that was unexpected.

“But you know,” Oikawa drawled with an evil look in his eyes. That was more like it. “It would probably help you out more if you tried using those lines on Matsun.”

“You are the last person I would ever take relationship advice from,” he replies, not even trying to refute Oikawa. Hanamaki wasn’t subtle. He was well aware.

“Why!”

“I’ve been hung up on Matsun for about a year and a half – tops,” Hanamaki explains before stuffing a bite of rice in his mouth. “You’ve been hung up on Iwaizumi for probably like a decade.”

“It has not been a _decade_ ,” Oikawa hissed, and Hanamaki can’t help his self-satisfied smirk.

He’d been suspicious of Oikawa’s feelings for Iwaizumi since he’d met the pair and was pretty confident by now that the setter was head over ass in love with his best friend.

But verbal confirmation was always nice.

“Oh, wipe that look off your face,” Oikawa responded with a roll of his eyes. “A decade or not, you’re not in any better position than I am.”

“I don’t know Oikawa, I can think of a couple positions—”

“Iwa-chan! Matsun! Come save me from the heathen!”

Hanamaki smirked as the other third years returned with their hands full of drinks.

“You call me a brute every other day, I doubt I’d be much better,” Iwaizumi replied. He tossed Oikawa a drink, and then settled in the spot in between them. The setter looked so touched by the simple beverage that Hanamaki rolled his eyes so hard they nearly rolled out of his head.

“I think you’ve proven many times the ways you’re better than Hanamaki,” Matsukawa responded with a pointed look at Iwaizumi’s arms.

Hanamaki grasped at his chest.

“Et tu, Matsukawa,” he cried out with a gasp of betrayal, before leaning heavily on Iwaizumi’s arm. He looked up at the spiker with a flutter of his eyes. “At least Iwaizumi’s arms are pillars that even I can rely on.”

Hanamaki smiled at the flush rising on Iwaizumi’s face at the attention and shared a wink with Matsukawa.

Then his face swiftly met the floor.

“Get your own Iwa-chan,” he heard Oikawa calling from above him. When he looked up, he found that Oikawa had locked both his arms around Iwaizumi and was pulling him possessively against him. He heard a tongue click and turned to see Matsukawa looking at the duo with a disappointed stare.

“Well if this isn’t the greatest let down of all time,” he says with a sigh.

Hanamaki lit up immediately.

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

“We knew you were selfish Oikawa.”

“Of course, who doesn’t.”

“But not being open to sharing?”

“How truly vanilla of you.”

“Shut up!” Oikawa and Iwaizumi shouted in unison, their matching flushes only spreading further at the synchronization.

A beat of silence.

Hanamaki saw Iwaizumi break first.

Suddenly they were all laughing, giggles and snorts breaking free intermediately.

“You two are the worst,” Iwaizumi got out in between his laughs, and Hanamaki looked over at Matsukawa again.

He should’ve known Matsukawa wouldn’t have let him do anything alone.

-

“We need to break the ice with everyone together.”

Matsukawa raised both his eyebrows at that.

“That’s a pretty bold move,” he replied as he rose from tying his shoes. “I think getting everyone up to where they are now is already pretty good.”

He gestured around the gym, and Hanamaki had to admit he had a point.

Kindaichi and Kunimi were both practicing blocking with admirable success, especially against Iwaizumi and Kyoutani. Yahaba was also holding his own setting for the two of them and was taking their adjustments in stride.

Oikawa was on a roll with his truly terrifying serves, and Watari was blowing the whole team away with the amount of them he was able to receive.

It was arguably one the best practices of the season.

But it could be better.

“…Maybe we can hit on coach.”

Matsukawa barked out a laugh the exact same time coach blew the whistle, and Hanamaki counted that as a win.

Still, he felt like the team needed one final push to truly be at their peak before the tournament. And one last push while they all were together seemed like the best way to do that.

Unless the problem was actually him.

What a wonderfully unpleasant thought.

But he was self-aware enough to realize that his crush on Matsukawa had been on his mind a lot more recently. How could it not be giving what the two have been getting up to in the past week. But what was he supposed to do, hit on Matsukawa on behalf of himself?

Oh, wait, yeah that's exactly what he should technically do.

And maybe getting distracted during a three-by-three match wasn’t his most brilliant idea.

“Hanamaki!”

He snapped out of his reverie in time to see the ball headed just to his left. With a muttered curse, he moved to receive it, only to crash head on into Matsukawa who had probably been trying to cover for him.

He felt himself tilt forward, and to stop himself from crushing Matsukawa, he grabbed him by his middle. He took a couple of steps forward, and then finally balanced himself shakily. Releasing a wobbly breath, he focused his sights on the man looking up at him in his arms.

Oh.

“Why Matsukawa,” Hanamaki said with absolutely no go ahead from his brain. “Did you just fall for me?”

Matsukawa looked up at him with his eyes opened wider than he’d seen them in his entire life.

And then he began laughing.

A full body, total encompassing laugh that had his body shaking so hard that Hanamaki almost dropped him.

He had never been so into him in his entire life.

_Oh._

“Hey Matsukawa,” Hanamaki said, eyes trained on the still laughing man in his arms. He repeats, “Hey Issei.”

And that got the other boy’s attention immediately.

Hanamaki swallowed roughly. He gently pulled Matsukawa up to a standing position but didn’t remove his arms from around his waist. Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with Matsukawa.

“Go out with me.”

Matsukawa’s own eyes went even larger, and in that moment Hanamaki remembered that they were in front of their whole damn team, and everyone was being suspiciously quiet, and it was suddenly ridiculously hot in the gym, who even approved the new lights—

“Was that a question?” Matsukawa asked with a small smile on his face and Hanamaki released the breath he hadn’t even been aware he had been holding in. “Because that didn’t sound like one, and that’s what people usually do in these kinds of things.”

“In what kind of things?” Hanamaki replied, tightening his hold on Matsukawa waist. His throat then jumped into his throat as Matsukawa responded by sliding his hands up his chest.

“Confessions, obviously,” he said, and Hanamaki was drawn to how his eyes lit up with mischief. “Usually there’s a long spiel about feelings, and then a _question_ asking if the person they're interested in will consider going out with them.”

“Wow, I did not realize you had such high standards. Should I do the whole thing over?”

“No,” Matsukawa murmured, and his hands cupped Hanamaki’s face. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

His eyes closed then, and Hanamaki felt his heartbeat skyrocket as he did the same. But the moment their lips touched, a loud shriek filled the gym. Hanamaki jolted away from Matsukawa and shot a glare at the source.

“Not in front of the children,” Oikawa yelled, waving his arms towards the first years. “It’s bad enough that you flaunt your relationship in front of me, but to defile the youth?”

“As if you have any right to say that with how much you drape yourself all over Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa deadpanned, and Hanamaki felt himself nearly swoon.

“Their flirting is going to get worse now, isn’t it?” Kunimi said with a sigh.

“They’ve been flirting?” Kindaichi asked, looking fully confused by the entire turn of events.

“I prefer to call it courting,” Hanamaki corrected, before lowering Matsukawa in a low dip. “This is flirting.”

He pressed his lips against Matsukawa firmly, and didn’t even mind that their first kisses had taken plan with Oikawa shrieking in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried looking up volleyball related pick-up lines for this and so many of them were so cringey i got second hand embarrassment 
> 
> also! i keep forgetting to add this but you can come talk with me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/bestkindoftrash) if you want! we can yell abt hq together and how the most recent chapter broke my heart ahahahahaaaaaaaaa


	5. i hate scraping my knee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma wasn’t an idiot. And he especially wasn’t an idiot when it came to Kuroo.
> 
> He was pretty sure Kuroo had developed a crush on him.
> 
> So far it had been mostly inconvenient.  
> -  
> Kuroken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have the softest spot in my heart for kuroken so i really liked writing this chapter!

Kenma had no idea why he let Kuroo talk him into this.

“Come on we’re almost back to my place, you can keep it up!” Kuro called out with way too much energy for the early morning. Kenma slowed his pace mostly out of spite in response, and Kuro sent him a disapproving look. “You’re never going to outpace Lev at this rate Kenma.”

“What’s even the point?” Kenma replied with a huff. “Lev would just match any pace I’d manage to get up to with his stupidly long legs.”

“Ah, but if you can keep up with the rest of the team, Lev will definitely be distracted and bother you less.”

And wasn’t that the dream. But Kenma wasn’t sure that all this effort was worth it.

All this effort being joining Kuroo once a week on his morning runs.

And while once a week didn’t sound that bad, it was really the morning part that was draining Kenma the most. The route that was usually only a 20-minute run for Kuroo had turned into a 30-minute run for Kenma. And while his time has gotten a little better, it wasn’t enough that he was getting his truly desired amount of sleep.

But any complaints he could make about that would only be met with scolding by Kuroo about how late he stayed up playing games.

So, there he was, running in the morning with Kuroo around their neighborhood before taking the train to school for morning volleyball practice, attempting to stay awake in all his classes, and finishing his day with even more volleyball. When had his life turned into this?

And apparently his facial expressions were much harder to get control over when he was exhausted from both lack of sleep and lack of physical energy.

“That is quite the pout you’ve got going there,” Kuroo said with a smirk. Kenma gave him a truly scathing glare, and Kuroo returned it with a whistle. “If you’ve got enough energy to glare at me like that, you’ve got enough to quicken your pace!”

With that, Kuroo started pulling ahead and Kenma bit back an exasperated groan.

He only started running faster because he wanted to get home sooner rather than later.

-

Kenma rested his forehead against his desk and cursed Kuroo’s affinity for sports. Kenma did realize that while volleyball was what caught Kuroo’s eye, any sport would have yielded the same results: sweaty skin, sore muscles, and overly energetic idiot teammates.

“Kenma-san, do you think coordinating what we eat for lunch will help us understand each other even better?”

Speaking of idiot teammates.

“Were you even invited into this classroom?” Kenma heard Taketora ask from his place behind him, and he himself refrained from pointing out that this wasn’t Taketora’s classroom either. He would bet money that he wasn’t even sitting in the seat properly and was instead propped up on the desk.

“I doubt either of you were invited to bother Kenma.”

At the sound of Kuroo’s voice, Kenma finally lifted his head up. The other boy was settling backwards into the desk directly in front of him and pulling out a truly ridiculously sized lunch.

And it didn't even come close to the size of Lev’s.

“But I need to become closer to Kenma in order to fulfil my role as ace,” Lev complained, dodging the hit Taketora – who _was_ sitting on the desk behind him, 10 points for Kenma – aimed for his head. Kenma blinked at the improvement of Lev’s reflexes. Maybe he’d seem less annoying if his skills kept getting better. “But don’t worry captain, not as close as you two are!”

And nope, Lev actually managed to annoy Kenma even more.

“Right,” Kuroo muttered as he scratched the back of his neck. Kenma’s gaze followed the motion, but he resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. It was a nervous tick of his, but one of his least obvious ones. Kenma could deal with that.

“Oh Kuroo-san, I just remembered!” Lev said, digging through his bag and pulling out a sealed envelope. Kenma spared it half a glance before pulling his handheld out from from his pocket and placing it on his desk while he waited for his game to load up. “Someone in my class heard me talking about being the ace for the volleyball team and asked me to give this to you!”

“Ahhh looks like a confession,” Taketora said, leaning over to simultaneously grab the letter from Lev and hit the Russian over the head for his ace comment. Kenma was almost impressed by his coordination. “Captain, you’ve even got first years pining after you? How is that even fair?”

Kenma grimaced as Kuroo responded with a too loud laugh. His eyes were wide and smile strained as he nearly jumped to reach over Kenma to take the letter from Taketora. Kenma saw in what felt like slow motion as jostled his desk and everything on it – including the open drink Lev had placed had on his desk. His eyes widened as he took in his handheld placed next to it, and he snatched it up before it could be damaged – but not before hissing out an enraged, “Kuroo!”

Which was maybe a little unjustified since it was Lev who left the drink there, but Kuroo shouldn’t be leaning over him like that anyway!

Kuroo looked down at Kenma at the sound of his name, and Kenma tilted his head back to shoot him an annoyed glare.

Kuroo’s own eyes widened at Kenma’s gaze, and he watched as a flush started to spread across his cheeks. Kenma blinked in surprise, his annoyance shifting to confusion, and Kuroo opened his mouth, but no words seemed to be coming out.

“Kuroo-san! My drink!”

Kuroo jolted in shock at Lev’s shout and his knee collided with Kenma’s desk. He let out a string of curses, but Kenma was too distracted by his desk nearly toppling over to comment on the colorful choice of words. To his own surprise, Kenma shot his arms out and righted the desk before it could fall fully and cause an even greater commotion. That didn’t stop half of Kuroo’s lunch from falling to the floor, and Lev’s drink completely emptying around them.

Kenma eyebrows climbed high on his head as he and everyone around him turned to gape in disbelief at their captain.

“Uh, I’ll go get some paper towels,” Kuroo said numbly as he took in the mess. Kenma fought the urge to throw something at him. Kuroo waited another beat, and then snatched the note from Taketora’s limp grip. “And this is probably not even a confession. I don’t even _know_ any first-years beyond the ones who are on the team anyway, and who uses someone else to deliver confessions nowadays?”

It did not escape Kenma’s notice that the entire time he was speaking, Kuroo kept glancing over at him. He resisted sighing at Kuroo’s behavior, and simply watched as Kuroo tried to avoid the Lev’s and Taketora’s poking and prodding as he made his way to leave the class to go get paper towels.

Kenma wasn’t an idiot. And he especially wasn’t an idiot when it came to Kuroo.

He was pretty sure Kuroo had developed a crush on him.

So far it had been mostly inconvenient.

He wasn’t sure when it started, only that recently Kuroo had become more fidgety in Kenma’s presence. He was always watching him from the corner of his eyes, flinching minutely if Kenma caught him, and laughing just a touch too loudly and too nervously at any mention of romance when Kenma was around. It honestly was barely even noticeable most days, but on others there were situation like these.

Kenma grimaced as the puddle of Lev’s spilled drink inched closer to his foot.

Not that Kenma was being purposely callous about the situation. It was just that Kuroo’s infatuation would pass soon enough – like they always did – and Kenma didn’t need to spend time dwelling on a crush that was likely to only last a couple more weeks.

It was better for him to ignore Kuroo's lingering stares until his attention turned to someone else. And Kenma had been doing a good of doing just that.

But situations like these just made it harder for everyone.

“But Kenma-san that was a good catch!” Lev said, pulling Kenma back into the conversation. “I thought for sure the desk was going to fall over.”

“Yeah, when did your reflexes get so sharp?” Taketora teased, eyeing the game in his hand. “If you name some video game, I might actually give them a try.”

“Oh, it must be your morning runs with Kuroo-san!” Lev exclaimed, and Kenma turned to shoot Kuroo a disbelieving look, but he wasn’t there. He’d probably managed to slip away to grab those paper towels. Coward.

“You’ve been going on morning runs with the captain?” Taketora asked, leaning around to try and catch Kenma’s eyes. “Voluntarily?”

“It’s for a good reason.”

“What reason?”

“To avoid Lev.”

Taketora was still laughing by the time Kuroo returned and began cleaning up the mess he’d made. Kenma begrudgingly grabbed a couple of paper towels to help clean his desk while Kuroo kneeled on the floor, and he refused to acknowledge the appreciative look Kuroo sent his way.

“Kenma-san you shouldn’t be avoiding me, you should be helping me,” Lev whined, swinging his feet and nearly kicking Kuroo in the head. “Oh, you should let me join the morning runs with you and Kuroo.”

“No.”

Kenma blinked.

He had meant to say just as much, but he was surprised that Kuroo beat him to the punch with a much sterner refusal than he himself had been planning.

Kuroo looked just as surprised himself.

“The only reason this works is because we live right next to each other,” Kenma said quickly before Lev or Taketora could further question Kuroo’s behavior. “It wouldn’t really work for us to go run to you, and then have to run home right after.”

Kenma kept his eyes on Lev as he took in his answer and made a point not to glance at Kuroo as he rose from his spot on the floor and went to toss the dirty paper towels away.

“That makes sense,” Lev conceded, and Kenma exhaled in relief. He went back to tuning out what Lev was saying as he finally pulled out his own lunch.

Kuroo returned to this seat in front of him with a half-smile, and Kenma remembered that he’d lost most of his lunch due to his own clumsiness. With a half-hearted sigh, he pushed his bento box towards the middle of his desk and gestured at Kuroo.

Kuroo squinted at him, and Kenma rolled his eyes as he took a bite of rice. Pleased, Kuroo shot Kenma an overwhelmingly fond look before he took careful bites from the bento and interjected into whatever conversation Lev was having with Taketora.

Kenma was very grateful Kuroo couldn’t see the way his ears were burning behind his hair.

-

They were nearing the halfway mark in their run when the sun began peeking out, and Kenma nearly hissed at the sight. It was an already unseasonably warm day, and the last thing he needed was the sun to further ruin his already miserable run.

“You cannot be brooding this early on when there is a beautiful sunrise on the horizon.”

“Can you even see the sunrise with half your hair on your face?”

“I’ve never been able to see a single sunrise because my hair covers the right side of my face; Kenma, you know that’s a sore spot for me.”

Kenma let out a startled laugh and tried ducking his head down and out of Kuroo’s line of sight.

The action didn’t stop him from catching Kuroo’s pleased expression at the sound, or the stab of bitterness that came with it.

Kenma would be more pulsed about this newfound crush if it wasn’t for the fact that Kuroo seemed to have a new crush every other day.

Kenma internally winced.

Okay that wasn’t fair.

But Kuroo was an undeniably flirty person, whether he intended to be or not. He attracted the attention of others and was not above returning that attention in full. Not that Kenma faulted Kuroo for that – he was allowed to flirt and mingle and have crushes and he was allowed to let those feelings fade as quickly as he wanted.

But Kenma wasn’t about to delude himself into thinking his friend was serious about whatever infatuation he had for him. He also wasn’t going to risk losing his best friend for said infatuation.

Besides, Kenma wasn’t even sure if he liked Kuroo like that. Sure, they were best friends, and Kenma trusted Kuroo more than anyone else in his life, and he was self-aware enough to realize that sometimes his eyes lingered on Kuroo’s arms a touch too long. But Kenma also knew that being friends with someone who was objectively attractive didn’t automatically mean that there were genuine romantic feelings involved.

So Kenma simply pushed any thoughts about Kuroo that lingered on just the off side of platonic into his Feelings Not to Be Examined Box™ and continued his relationship with Kuroo as he always had. And he would continue to do so until Kuroo moved on from his crush on Kenma, and then everything would go back to normal.

Kenma felt a twinge at his chest at the thought, and immediately looked to see if Kuroo caught the way his chest hiccupped at the feeling. But when he glanced up at his friend, Kuroo was looking down at Kenma with a smile so soft that Kenma had the sudden all-encompassing urge to kiss it off of his face.

Kenma then promptly tripped over his own feet.

“Kenma!”

He caught himself easily on his hands and knees, though he did wince at the sting of his palms. Kenma let himself stay like that just a little longer, using his hair to cover his bewildered expression because thoughts like that were not common for him. At all.

Stupid Kuroo and his stupid crush getting Kenma’s stupid feelings all mixed up.

“Kenma?”

At the second call of his name, Kenma finally lifted his head and moved to sit back on his heels. However, as soon as he started leaning back, a sharp stinging shot across his knees. He nearly tilted over at the shock of the pain but was luckily caught by Kuroo.

He instinctively looked up, but Kuroo’s own eyes were trained on Kenma’s knees.

Kenma’s currently scraped and bleeding knees.

“Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kenma sighed, adjusting with a small wince so that he was sitting back with his knees pointed up. “You wouldn’t happen to have a band-aid or two hidden in that hair of yours?”

“Cute,” Kuroo snarked, but it lacked its usual heat. He gently pulled at Kenma’s ankle to try and straighten his leg, and Kenma couldn’t bite back a gasp as pain shot up his leg. Kuroo immediately released his leg, and frowned with a thoughtful look on his face. 

“Well, there’s no way you’re running the rest of the way back,” Kuroo said with a sigh. Kenma tried not to let it show how very okay he was with that. Kuroo gaze lingered on Kenma’s legs for a couple more beats before shifting close enough so that his face was only a couple breaths away from Kenma’s own.

“Let me carry you back.”

“I would rather bleed out.”

“Okay you can’t be that bad if you have this much attitude.”

“My ability to insult you is actually fueled by how much of a dork you are, not my own physical energy.”

“…y’know I kinda like it when you’re mean to me.”

“You’re so embarrassing,” Kenma groaned, pushing Kuro away by his face. Kuroo laughed and reached down to pull Kenma up to his feet.

Kenma hissed at the stinging of his knee, and then grimaced as he felt blood trail down his leg.

Gross.

“Okay, seriously, you should let me carry you back,” Kuroo said, and Kenma’s eyes widened at how much more serious he sounded.

“Some scraped knees are hardly a reason for you to carry anyone anywhere.”

“I’m not talking about anyone, I’m talking about you,” Kuro insisted, and Kenma thanked the heat for covering the flush he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain away. “Besides, would you rather slowly limp all the way back to your house in this heat, or would you rather get there quickly without having to move a muscle.”

Kenma squinted his eyes at him.

“Are you implying that you carrying me would be faster than me simply walking back.”

“Absolutely,” Kuroo replied without hesitation. Kenma would be impressed with his confidence if he wasn’t a little insulted. Kuroo extended his arms out in front of him and lowered himself into a crouch with an expectant grin. “Now come on!”

“I refuse to allow you to bridal carry me.”

“Piggyback then?”

Kenma released a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine.”

He refused to admit he was endeared by the way Kuroo’s face lit up.

Making his way behind Kuroo, Kenma begrudgingly stretched his arms over Kuroo’s shoulders and pressed his chest against his back. Before he could adjust further, Kuroo grabbed the back of his thighs and hoisted him up. Surprised, Kenma tightened his hold on around Kuro’s neck with a hiss and squeezed his legs around his waist.

“Please don’t suffocate the person trying to transport you home.”

“Then don’t pick me up without warning,” Kenma snapped, though he did loosen his hold a bit.

“I was just trying pick you up before you changed your mind!”

Kenma gave a frustrated huff in response, and Kuroo seemed to take that as his cue to start walking. Hitching his chin over Kuroo’s shoulders, he peered down to get a better look at his knees. He tried making out if they were really as bad as they looked, or if it was just the blood exaggerating it. Or maybe it was the amount of blood that was worrying itself.

Kenma grimaced at the thought.

“As soon as we get home, we’re going to clean and bandage your knees, and probably get some ice,” Kuroo said, practically reading Kenma’s mind. “You might even need to sit out practice today…”

And normally Kenma would perk up at the thought of no volleyball practice. But they had the Tokyo qualifiers coming up, and Kenma actually really wanted to go to nationals, both to have a real game against Shouyo and because it was Kuroo’s last year to make that happen.

And yep, Kuroo’s impending graduation definitely goes into the Feelings Not to Be Examined Box™.

“I can still practice,” Kenma replied, ignoring his last thought. “Me and Lev still need to sync up better, and you need to perfect your personal time difference attack.”

“ _Our_ personal time difference attack,” Kuroo corrected with a grin. Kenma turned his head away from Kuroo, but he’s pretty sure he still caught the way his face heated. “But we can work on that when your knees are better.”

“Look, we’ll put band-aids on my knees, wrap them in bandages, and put my knee guards on over that,” Kenma said as he tilted his face even further away from Kuroo’s gaze. He was not about to say this to his face. “I want to practice alright. Just…don’t make me do any flying dives or seal walks.”

Kenma knew the risks that came with admitting he actually wanted to practice volleyball, even if it was less for the sport and more for his friends. But however Kuroo chose to lord that over him would be better than him feeling guilty over a stupid accident.

“Seems really convenient that those are the only things won’t be able to do,” Kuroo replied, and Kenma detected the tease in his voice, but refused to turn and see his expression.

“And no running either.”

Kuroo just chuckled and hiked Kenma up higher on his back.

“And to think it was situations like these we were trying to avoid by getting you out running more,” Kuroo said with a wry smile. Kenma snorted into Kuroo’s shirt.

While the incident with the cat stuck in a tree had been an enlightening experience for Kenma about Lev, he was not trying to encourage anymore accidents that would lead to a bloody nose. And knowing Lev, there was bound to be one right around the corner.

Although, given recent events, maybe the reason for bloodshed fell more on Kenma’s shoulders.

“At this rate, you’re going to be stuck running with Lev til you graduate,” Kuroo joked, and usually Kenma would simply roll his eyes, but he brought up something that had been bothering Kenma for a while.

“Kuroo…do you honestly think me joining you once a week is going to improve my speed that much?” Kenma asked doubtfully. This was something he’d been dubious about since Kuro first mentioned starting this ordeal.

While Kenma wasn’t the slowest runner in the world, his stamina was definitely nowhere near the rest of the Nekoma team. It certainly wasn’t to the level that one extra 30 minute run a week was going to fix. And now, with the scraped knee and the whole being carried home, Kenma was losing any belief that these runs were really worth it.

Kuroo’s own silence proved he agreed.

Kenma groaned and let his weight collect more heavily on Kuroo. The other boy barely even faltered. How completely unfair.

“Why’d you even come up with the idea if you didn’t really think it was gonna work,” Kenma grumbled. And maybe he was being a little petulant, but he figured he’d earned that by now.

When he’d complained to Kuroo about Lev’s incessant rambling during team runs, he’d expected Kuroo to listen, tease Kenma about Lev’s fixation on him, and then offer him to buy him something sweet. What he’d been unprepared for was for Kuroo to hesitantly offer that Kenma should occasionally join him on his morning runs. Even more unexpected was how Kuroo had refused to meet his eyes the whole time he’d asked him.

That had been the first clue he had about Kuroo recent…affections.

“I mean, are the runs really that bad?”

Kenma hadn’t expected Kuroo to respond to him. He’d really hadn’t expected him to respond in a way that so obviously evaded his question.

He was getting really tired of all these unexpected behaviors from Kuroo.

Kenma shot him a light glare. He wasn’t sure if it was because of what he said or his overall frustration with Kuroo. Probably both. Kuroo blanched at the sight anyway.

“Okay so, obviously ignoring today,” Kuro said as he shifted his face up and away from Kenma’s. “The runs haven’t been awful…right?”

And loathe as he may be to admit it, Kenma could agree that the runs haven’t been all that bad. By the end of them, he was generally hating the entire concept of running, but for the majority of the run it was almost peaceful. It was usually much cooler, so when he does catch the sunset, he could appreciate its beauty instead of detesting its heat. And even if it has been slow going, his stamina has been increasing. And it was nice to just be in Kuroo’s company in general.

Not that he’d admit any of that fully to Kuroo.

“They haven’t been the worst,” Kenma conceded, and he hated how easily Kuroo seemed to be able to read him. His back immediately straightened at Kenma’s words, and he turned his head to try and look at Kenma.

“Really?”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Kuroo laughed, and the sound was almost enough to distract Kenma from Kuroo’s lack of explanation.

Almost.

“So, are you going to answer my question about _why_ you came up with the idea?” Kenma asked, fully turning his head towards Kuroo and keeping his eyes trained on Kuroo to gauge his reaction.

Kuroo did not disappoint. As soon as his question registered, his face flushed and his shoulders rose towards his ears, jostling Kenma’s head in the process. Kenma narrowed his eyes, but simply readjusted his chin as he kept his gaze trained on Kuroo. Kuroo’s eyes darted down to look at Kenma, and he immediately deflated at Kenma’s unwavering gaze.

“Is it so bad that I wanted to spend a little extra time with you?” Kuroo grumbled, looking clearly embarrassed about the confession.

Kenma blinked slowly.

The thing was, he and Kuroo actually spent a lot of time together. Like, most of their time was spent together. They went to school together, had lunch together, practiced together, came home together, and more often than not ended up at each other’s house at the end of the day to do homework. They were always at each other’s sides, always a constant pair.

And yes, when Kuroo had to go home after doing homework, Kenma sometimes wanted to ask him to stay the night, or when Kuroo wanted to meet up with some friends on a weekend, Kenma sometimes wanted to ask him to stay in with him instead…but those were all things that Kenma pushed into his Feelings Not to Be Examined Box™.

Whatever was going with Kuroo seemed different than that.

“I mean, at the end of the school year I’ll be gone, and things won’t be like this anymore so…”

Kenma clenched his fists a little on Kuroo’s shirt, and then immediately released them hoping Kuroo didn’t notice his slip up.

By the way his head tilted slightly to the side to glance at him, he definitely had.

But Kuroo leaving for college was something that Kenma had been avoiding thinking about since the end of the summer. Because it wasn’t going to be like when Kuroo went to high school a year ahead of him. He wasn’t going to be able to just wait a little longer after school to walk home with him. Or walk a couple houses down to Kuroo’s home to drag him to his favorite bakery. Or meet him at the park where they used to play volleyball as kids just to wind down.

Kuroo was going to be an hour train ride away at best, and who knows where in the country at worst.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said with a sigh. His shoulders slumped so minutely that if Kuroo hadn’t been carrying him, Kenma worried he wouldn’t have caught it. “I didn’t mean to just spring this on you.”

“You ‘didn’t spring it on me’, I asked,” Kenma muttered. “And you have nothing to be sorry about. Avoiding what’s going to happen isn’t going to make it go away.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed with a sigh. “I’ve started figuring that out myself too.”

Kuroo voice sounded heavy, like he was talking about something other than graduating. Kenma didn’t know what else could be as looming at that, but figured Kuroo deserved something to lift his mood.

“Thank you, for inviting me to run with you,” Kenma murmured, tucking his chin behind Kuroo’s shoulder and training his eyes on his shirt. “I know I’m a little slower, and you’ve been getting up earlier because of it so…I really appreciate what you do for me. And the team.”

Kenma closed his eyes as he finished up, trying his best not to cringe outwardly at how awkward he’d sounded. This is why he hated trying to cheer Kuroo up and tried leaving that to other people. But there were no other people around, and Kenma wasn’t going to leave Kuroo to sulk while the boy carried him home on his back.

“I know what I said earlier, but I think I like it even better when you’re nice to me.”

“Oh my god, Kuroo,” Kenma groaned as he slapped Kuroo’s arm. Why did he have to ruin the moment? Especially when it was Kenma saying the nice things. “I honestly should kick you for that, you are so embarrassing.”

“Ah but if you kick me, I’ll probably fall and bring you down with me.”

“A risk I’m all to ready to take.”

And as Kenma continued to threaten bodily harm, and Kuroo continued laughing him off, Kenma felt his chest continue to lighten the rest of the way home. By the time they got Kenma’s knees cleaned up, they realized the scrapes weren’t too bad and would likely be fully healed in only a couple of days.

But as they began walking towards the school – Kuroo talking at his side and Kenma focused in on the handheld in his hand – the conversation from earlier about Kuroo’s worries about leaving drifted back into Kenma’s mind and he began feeling a new kind of dread.

Because what if Kuroo’s crush wasn’t just some passing phase but was him projecting his own worries about leaving as some coping mechanism.

Kenma tried focusing back on the game in his hand, but now that the thought had crossed his mind, he couldn’t quite shake it.

Kuroo was going through a lot of stress right now and was getting ready for a lot of change. Of course, it made sense for him cling to Kenma when everything around him seemed so unstable. And _of course_ , Kuroo would misconstrue those feelings as some sort of misguided crush. Kuroo really was a romantic at heart, and this whole situation had to be conflating that.

And even worse, that meant that his crush might not even pass on its own time.

Fuck, and Kenma wasn’t even sure what the best thing to do here was. Should he let Kuroo keep doing whatever it is he was doing? Should he subtly call him out? Confront him? Which option would make the situation better, and which would cause everything to blow up in his face?

“Kenma.”

Kenma startled and looked up at Kuroo’s worried gaze.

“The game over screen has been playing for the past 2 minutes,” Kuroo said as his eyes scanned Kenma’s face. The worry on Kuroo's own face nearly made Kenma choke. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay after the fall?"

And even if he had been prepared for Kuroo’s feelings to pass, Kenma couldn’t help the way his heart dropped at his realization. Because try as he might, Kenma couldn’t deny the small part of him that had been almost happy about Kuroo’s crush on him. And he knew Kuroo didn’t mean to do it on purpose, but it felt almost cruel for him to look at Kenma so adoringly when it was all just some way for Kuroo to manage everything.

“I’m fine,” Kenma replied, voice rougher than he intended. He avoided Kuroo’s widening gaze and continued walking towards the station. He counted to four, and then Kuroo was catching up to him without another word. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Kenma closed his eyes. That was the worst thing to say to Kuroo.

“Kenma…”

“Really, everything’s fine. If it wasn’t, I’d let you know.”

“Good. Because you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

And Kenma kept his eyes focused on the ground as he nodded so he wouldn’t have to see whatever misplaced lovestruck look Kuroo had on his face.

He was going to have to start getting used to avoiding Kuroo's gaze anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kuroo: *has a crush on kenma*  
> kenma: HA okay how can i overthink the FUCK out this to rationalize it
> 
> come scream with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bestkindoftrash) abt dumb volleyball idiots, its my fav thing to do

**Author's Note:**

> the idea of writing a fic focused on only ONE of these idiots relationship was so beyond me that i just. didn't. 
> 
> each chapter will have a different relationship focus but there will be other minor relationships in the background! also these aren't unrelated one-shots, this very much has an overarching story, we just take breaks to check in on others in between


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